A Line Allows Progress, A Circle Does Not
by The Pris
Summary: "Miss Smoak" – Moira's voice is ice cold and Felicity feels no shame when she flinches because, wow, she suddenly knows who Oliver learned his low growly-arrow voice from – "Just because you have no family, it does not mean you can steal mine." / AU ending to 2x13. Eventual Oliver/Felicity.
1. Part I

**Author**: The Pris

**Rating: **T/PG-13

**Fandom: **Arrow

**Title: **A Line Allows Progress, A Circle Does Not

**Summary: **"Miss Smoak" – Moira's voice is ice cold and Felicity feels no shame when she flinches because, wow, she suddenly knows who Oliver learned his low growly-arrow voice from – "Just because you have no family, it does not mean you can steal mine." / AU ending to 2x13. Eventual Oliver/Felicity.

**Disclaimer: **I can in no way take any credit for the amazing show that the CW has given to us. I'm just borrowing the characters because I love taking the characters and exploring paths that the show never took. Title for this story comes from the song 'a line allows progress, a circle does not' by Bright Eyes.

**. . .**

**Part I.**

Felicity knows about her current reputation at Queen Consolidated. It's hard not to notice when she hears the whispers behind her back, when she sees the glares that other women aim her way, when she sees her old supervisor and he looks at her with pity and a look that says _you could have been great._

It bothers her – but, for once in her life, she bites her tongue and chokes down the words she wants to blurt out because do these people not realize the mere _thought _of it is ridiculous? – but not as much as it probably should. Felicity is no stranger when it comes to mocking whispers and hateful sneers. She _was_, after all, the smart kid who was skipped ahead in math and science and computers in the sixth grade, forcing her to leave the middle school and spend the second half of her day in the high school.

Most of the people at the company think that she is an ambitious, blonde bimbo that has opted for spreading her legs as a way of advancing her career. It makes sense in a way, given the fact that she's made the quantum leap from an unknown IT girl to the CEO's Executive Assistant, except she doesn't consider it a promotion. Felicity Smoak did not graduate top of her MIT class so she could bring Oliver Queen coffee.

Everyone else thinks she is just another victim of Oliver Queen's charming grin and his distracting blue, blue eyes. Just another fling. Just another girl that will be left broken by Oliver Queen. Just another girl too stupid to realize that she is the rule and not the exception, the rule being: playboy billionaires who use women never really change, they just fool you into believing they have until someone more attractive, or more accomplished, or _just more _comes along.

She knows which category she falls into in the eyes of Moira Queen.

_I see the way you look at him._

But what Moira Queen doesn't understand – and probably never will – is that when Felicity Smoak looks at Oliver Queen she sees the _real _him. She doesn't see the playboy CEO, and she doesn't see a vicious vigilante without a soul, she sees the man who has known nothing but consequences for the past six years. Felicity sees a man who cares so much, probably more than he realizes, and it breaks her heart that he thinks he's too damaged to be with someone he really cares about. That he thinks it's better to be _alone_.

Because it isn't.

Felicity knows what it is to be _alone_.

Making friends has never come easily to her and she remembers all those days she spent with her nose hiding behind a book or a computer screen.

And she doesn't remember much about her father but she does remember the pain she felt when he left her, of course she does; she had loved him, loved the way he would chuckle when she talked a million miles a minute about everything and nothing, but most of all she had loved the way he would call her _princess _when she dangled over his shoulder and watched with wide eyes as he fiddled with wires and fixed the broken radio with ease. She remembers that he loved her. But she also remembers how alone she felt when he left.

Because her mother is… well, _her mother_.

Elizabeth Smoak is ambitious, brilliant, and managed to raise her daughter without help from anyone. But Felicity was chafing as a child – she knows she was – and her mother has never known what to do with her. _Felicity, _she'd sigh with her hands on her hips and tight lines around her mouth, _you can't spend your life hiding behind a computer screen. _Her mother has never understood that she isn't hiding, she's just found where she belongs. Where she is happy.

And she _is _happy.

Regardless of all of the anxiety and the paralyzing fear that someday she won't get the information they need fast enough and one of her boys won't come home and it'll be _her _fault – Felicity is happy. With Team Arrow. With Digg. With Oliver. With _her family_.

She isn't alone anymore.

But the thought it could be ripped from her…

_If you tell him this you will rip his world apart and a part of him will always blame you, _Moira had warned her. _Oh! He'll hate me for sure. But he will hate you, too._

Felicity doesn't trust Moira Queen. She never has, honestly, not since Walter first asked her to look into Tempest, but the woman _is _Oliver's mother and she deserves the chance to tell her son the truth. Oliver should hear it from his mother, but Felicity is his friend, his partner, and she decides before she even steps foot in the Queen Mansion that she _will _tell Oliver the truth if Moira doesn't.

Oliver has enough secrets and lies in his life as it is. He doesn't need another. Especially not from his mother. Not one of this magnitude.

Besides, Felicity is his _partner_. It is her job to have his back, to keep a wary eye out for things will hurt him.

But Moira's words make her pause and question her resolve.

_He will hate you, too_. Those words resound in her head and she can't _not _think about them. She's short with people. She snaps at Oliver. She stares off into space and she gets trapped inside her own head – Oliver notices, she knows he does.

But Sara's mother is abducted – and what is it with these vigilantes and their psycho ex-girlfriends? – and everyone is so worried and so focused that it goes unnoticed that she is quieter and less animated than she usually is. Dinah Lance's abduction comes at the perfect time, not that there _is _a good time to be abducted, but it gets Oliver off her case and –

Felicity winces to herself and cuts off that line of thought because she is _a terrible person_.

But Oliver, even though he doesn't question her, he notices that something is wrong and when his expression isn't resembling that of a lost puppy, he's looking at her with that focused x-ray intensity that he uses when he scans her for injuries after she gets herself into trouble _again_. He knows something is wrong. He knows something has shifted. He just doesn't know what.

"Felicity? Fel-ic-ity." His irritation and worry and need-to-know what's wrong all bleed into his voice as he reaches for her and makes her look at him, and she knows from the confusion in his eyes that he saw the evil-glares that were exchanged between her and his mother. "_What _is going on with you? And don't say – "

"Nothing – "

"Don't say _nothing_." Oliver pleads. "The truth, please."

Felicity takes a deep breath and even though this is the worst possible moment she tells him exactly that – though she beats around the bush and nearly has a breakdown because she cannot bear the thought of losing someone else, but Oliver knows how to read between the lines and runs his hands up and down her arms because _you're not going to lose me_ – because she always tells him the truth. She always has and her deep-rooted insecurities or Moira Queen's attempt at manipulation isn't going to change that. Change them.

"Whatever it is that's bothering you, is it – is it about your family?"

"No," she eventually whispers, tears in her eyes because she's about _rip his world apart_, "it's about yours."

**. . .**

Several hours after her poorly timed confession, after the worst public announcement ever and crazy ninja assassins and snake venom, she finally makes it home. Felicity kicks off her heels and sighs in relief – she loves all of her heels, _honest,_ but sometimes she just wishes it was still acceptable for her to show up to work in her panda flats because fashion is pain – before making her way to her bedroom to throw on a loose pair of jeans and an old hoodie she still has from MIT.

But then she has nothing to do and her mind just _won't _shut up.

_You will rip his world apart and a part of him will always blame you._

Her heart pounds in her chest, the fast rhythm echoing in her ears, and it takes all of her self-control to stop herself from believing those words. She holds onto the truth that Moira Queen, for all she claims that everything she does is for her children, doesn't really know Oliver. _Felicity _knows him. And she won't lose him. He promised she wouldn't.

_Hey. You're not going to lose me._

Blue eyes roll in exasperation. "Get a grip, Smoak." Felicity mutters but her mind still won't shut up and she knows if she doesn't do _something _her mind will run rampant with worst-case scenarios all over again.

Given how distracted she's been the past couple of days she knows that there are probably a gazillion e-mails she has to check, she knows for a fact she has 4 missed calls, 3 that are surely from her mother, another that's likely from her grandmother telling her to actually call her mother back, then there's probably _something _she has to look up for Arrow-business, but she cannot stomach going near her tablet right now because digging into things she had no right to dig into is what got her here. So she does the only thing she can. She cleans.

Her mother has always had a habit of cleaning the house from top to bottom when she is stressed out. It's like the simple routine, the one she doesn't have to think about, the one that keeps her hands busy, calms her, and it's a habit that the two of them have in common. Felicity is pretty sure it's the _only _thing she has in common with Elizabeth Smoak.

Felicity turns her television on for noise and then she gets started. She makes her bed for the first time since she changed her sheets a couple of days ago, she rids her fridge of the spoiled food, she dusts her bookshelves, she sweeps her floors, and then she mops them when she hears an incessant grating voice in her head that sounds _just like _her mother. _It's pointless to do something if you're only going to do it halfway, Felicity_.

She pushes that from her mind as she puts her mop away and heads to the kitchen, scowling when she notices the dishes that have piled up in the sink. Honestly. The least Oliver could do is hire a maid service for her. She spends her entire day running around doing _secretarial work _– she still cringes at the thought because she is _not _an EA – for Oliver and then she spends her night with him talking in her ear –

She squeezes her eyes shut and counts. _3… 2… 1…_

The dishes clink in the sink as she scrubs the rough side of a sponge against the sauce that has dried onto the porcelain plates her mother bought her when she moved in, and she vows in that moment that she will never allow her dishes to sit for 3 days ever again. Not that she's had time to clean up the past couple of days. Not with crazy ninja assassins and lying mothers who lie and thoughts of fathers who abandon their daughters.

_If you tell him this, you will rip his world apart and a part of him will always blame you._

When the dishes do nothing to help clear her mind she moves to wiping the counters. Because she should _not _be this stressed out. This was a win for Team Arrow. Dinah Lance is home and safe, albeit a little confused, the psycho-ninja-ex-girlfriend released Sara from her oath and the blonde can _finally _come home, finally return to Starling City, and there hadn't been a need for her to play doctor with Oliver. For once.

He was okay. Physically.

Emotionally?

Felicity pauses to rinse out her rag. Judging by the frowny-face that he has been wearing since she dropped the atomic bomb of truth bombs on him earlier, not to mention learning that his mother had been hiding yet _another _secret, Felicity doubts Oliver will be using the work _'okay' _again anytime soon. Well. He'll probably _say _he is okay when she asks him. But she won't believe him.

"Damn it." She growls as she throws her cleaning rag into the sink and grips the counter. She's worried. She can't help it. She's worried about Oliver. About Sara. By how quickly everything is changing.

And, as much as she hates to admit it, the fear that Moira was right.

_He'll hate me for sure. But he will hate you, too._

But Moira was wrong. He doesn't hate her. She isn't going to lose Oliver.

Oliver _promised _that she wasn't going to lose him – though with what they do and how they spend their nights, there is a chance that he will end up breaking that promise and she doesn't even want to think about what she'll do if he doesn't come home one night – but the fear is still there. Deep-rooted fears and insecurities that everyone important to her, everyone she loves, will leave her because they always do. People always leave.

_He will hate you, too._

"… Because Starling City is _our _City and starting today we're going to take it back…" Moira's voice drifts from her television and Felicity walks back into her living room to stare at the screen, her eyes immediately drifting to the right corner of the screen to stare at the smiling face of Oliver Queen.

And she knows everyone else watching will believe that it's real. They'll believe that what they're seeing is the face of a son who is proud of his mother.

But Felicity knows it isn't a real smile. Oliver's face is stiff and there isn't any crinkling around his eyes.

What _she _sees is the face of a man whose entire world just crumbled around him and for the millionth time Felicity curses herself for choosing _that _moment to come clean about what was bothering her. But then, it really wasn't her fault because Oliver's hands were on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing comforting circles over her collarbone, and his blue, blue eyes were staring at her with a mixture of worry and trust and she couldn't _not _tell him –

Not that she's blaming Oliver. She blames Moira.

But seriously. Worst. Timing. Ever.

Not that there's a _good _time to rip someone's entire world apart.

_You will rip his world apart and a part of him will always blame you._

Moira hadn't known about her insecurities when she made that threat but they shook her to the core, regardless. Oliver promised she won't lose him and she knows he was telling the truth. Somewhere deep in her heart and soul she knows that he was telling the truth, but that confidence is currently lost in the dark and fighting a losing battle against her life-long fear that everyone in her life will eventually be ripped from her.

Just like Oliver's family was just ripped from him.

Oliver.

Felicity catches her bottom lip between her teeth as she circles over to her purse and takes out her tablet. She stares at it thoughtfully, wondering if it is any of her business, which she knows it isn't, but she's worried and it's _Oliver. _Last time his world was rocked on its axis to this extent he'd fled back to Lian Yu.

Powering on her tablet before she can talk herself out of it, her eyebrows crease with worry when she pulls up the signal from the tracker she had on his phone – and, _huh_, she never told him about that – and sees that he's at Verdant. But she knows what that means. He was in the basement. Probably taking his frustrations out on some poor unsuspecting training dummy.

Something twists painfully in her chest. Should she do something?

No. It isn't her place.

But Oliver is upset. Understandably so, in her opinion.

She is partially to blame. She will _not _make things any better.

Sometimes having someone to talk to, to listen, is all you need.

Oliver _never _wants to talk about what is bothering him. She should just leave him to taking his anger out on the dummy. She doesn't want him to yell at her.

She rolls her eyes. "Well, that's a horrible reason." Felicity grumbles as she throws on her jacket, grabbing her car keys out of the bowl by her door before she heads to the lair. Oliver promised she wasn't going to lose him. Maybe it is time for her turn to show him that he isn't going to lose her, either.

**. . .**

One. Two. Three.

Oliver counts the hits in his head as he moves through the motions, praying for a distraction he knows won't come as the raw anger courses through his veins, the conversation he'd had with his mother playing on a continuous loop. He wishes he could say that this was a surprise. He wishes he could say that he hadn't seen this coming; that he hadn't been waiting for the other shoe to drop. But he can't. He _knew _this was coming.

He remembers his mother's trial, he remembers how reluctant she had been to take the stand in her own defense, and he remembers why. His mother had been afraid about something coming out in the trial – another one of her secrets. He remembers how he sat across from her and asked her point-blank what she was hiding from him this time.

_You lied because this is what you do. _

One. Two. Three.

One. Two. Three.

His hits increase in speed as he thinks about the events of the past couple of weeks – of the past couple of _days_. He'd been shocked when his mother first told him that she was going to run against Sebastian, but that shock had been replaced by pride when his mother had explained why: she wanted to help rebuild the city she had helped destroy, and she thought she could do that as mayor.

He had been proud. He'd been ready to introduce his mother with pride.

But then he'd seen it – the look on Felicity's face.

He had known for days that something was bothering her. He's always been aware of Felicity because she makes herself known. Felicity makes herself known with the bright colors she wears and the way she fills every silence and in the way she demands to be seen, demands to be heard. But ever since he returned to Starling City, ever since Digg and Felicity dragged him from purgatory and brought him home, he hasn't just been aware of Felicity. He's been _in tune _with her.

He doesn't know why and he doesn't know how it happened or what it means – though a thought has been creeping around the edges of his mind and his heart for months now, since before Russia – but he had known the moment something had shifted. He'd caught her staring off into space, trapped within the confines of her own mind, and then he had noticed how _quiet _she was.

Felicity Smoak is _never _quiet.

Felicity talks aimlessly, about everything and nothing at once, going off on tangents that have nothing to do with the point that she is trying to make. She babbles when she is nervous, she argues when she disagrees, she uses her _loud voice _when she is angry, but she is never quiet.

But Felicity never pushes him to talk, not about the island, not about anything, so he had returned the favor and trusted that she would come to him when she was ready. Oliver remembers when he told her that she could talk to him if she ever needed to tell someone about her day – and he remains firm in that offer. He will always be there to listen. He will always be there for her. She is _not _going to lose him.

Then he saw the look on her face. And he'd known then, in that moment, that _whatever it was _had to do with Moira Queen.

Then Felicity had done what she's always done – told him the truth.

Because Felicity is loyal to a fault.

_The truth, please._

He never expected to find someone like Felicity Smoak. He'd planned to face his fathers mistakes alone, but a part of him had hoped to find someone to help him in his mission, hoped to find someone like Digg – someone to have his back, a partner, a brother in arms that understood just how fucked the world could be sometimes. But Felicity… she had been unexpected, but he knows he wouldn't be able to do this, _any _of this, without his Girl Friday.

Because in his world filled with masks and lies and secrets, Felicity is his one light amongst an ocean of darkness. She is the one that he counts on to have his back and the voice that he trusts to have in his ear because he knows that she'll always guide him back home. Felicity is the one that he relies on. His partner.

And, like any good partner, she always has his back.

One. Two. Three.

_Whatever it is that's bothering you, is it – is it about your family?_

One. Two. Three.

_No. It's about yours. _

One. Two. Three.

"Hey."

His entire body freezes at the sound of her voice and his eyes dart up, looking past the training dummy and instead focusing on Felicity. But there is something different about her, something _off_, and he knows it isn't because of her worn jeans or the baggy hoodie he can see under her jacket. She usually storms into the foundry with wild gestures as her voice bounces off the walls and her heels click against the concrete floor but tonight she is quiet. Just like she's been for the past couple of days.

Felicity has always been an odd mixture of babbling nervousness and confidence, but tonight that confidence is absent. Instead, tonight, with the way she is chewing on her bottom lip and wringing her hands together, she reminds him of the flustered woman he first met in the IT Department.

It makes his heart ache for reasons he can't really identify, but he answers as he takes a step back from the dummy. "Hey."

Felicity doesn't seem to know what to say after that and they stand there in silence for several minutes, her mouth opening and closing a couple of times before she winces. "I didn't mean to, you know, interrupt your therapeutic pummeling session with the dummy – I just, wanted to check on you. Never mind. This was a bad idea. I should have called – not that I would think to call before coming here, because I never do but, yeah." She rambles, clasping her hands together to stop herself from fidgeting. "You just go back to all of… _that_, and I'll just –" she gestures behind her before stepping backwards, stumbling a bit on the stairs. "You know, go. Even though I just got here. Yeah, I'll do that."

He watches as she turns around, her hand reaching up to tug on her ponytail in a way he is all-too familiar with, and he doesn't feel the words leave his mouth but he hears them. "Felicity," he breathes out softly, in a tone he reserves just for her, and amazingly she hears him because she whirls around to look at him, "_Stay._"

Felicity blinks, momentarily caught up in the intense blue eyes that are staring at her before she clears her throat. "I, uh… yeah. I can do that."

She raises her hand and shoots a finger-gun at him as she tentatively walks towards her chair, but then the reality of what she's just done catches up with her and she internally cringes because _she did not just do that _and she hears a small huff. It is a reaction she's used to getting from Oliver – usually when she does, or _says_, something embarrassing – and it makes her think that if he were less serious, less somber, if he was the guy from _before_, he'd be laughing at her.

Felicity bites her lip and plops down into her chair as Oliver goes back to taking his anger out on the dummy, the steady rhythm echoing throughout the lair. One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three. He doesn't want to talk and that is more than okay, she won't push him, she doesn't even know what she would say, but she hears him grunt as he increases the speed of his hits and it makes her wince because this is _her _fault.

She twirls in her chair so she's facing him and her mouth opens and closes as she tries to think of something to say and, though there is no shortage of topics they could discuss, she pauses because she isn't quite ready to talk about the Moira-sized elephant in the room – the Moira-phant, if you will – and something tells her that he isn't either. Instead she focuses on the _other _thing that's happened over the past couple of days.

"Where's Sara?" Felicity asks as she looks around, half expecting the other blonde to pop up out of nowhere. Not without reason. Sara's practically been living in the lair since she returned to Starling City.

"With her family." Oliver grunts, glaring at the training dummy. "Laurel... Laurel was there. She saw Sara."

Felicity nods and cringes because, wow, she is _so _happy that she is not at at the Lances' right now. Not that there was a reason she _would _be at the Lances', it's just that has to be the most awkward family reunion _ever. _What does one even say when confronted with the sister you thought dead, only to see her six years later, after she ran away on a yacht with your at-the-time boyfriend and supposedly drowned?

Her teeth catches her bottom lip once again and she chews thoughtfully before she turns back around to face her computer, the sound of Oliver's fists hitting the dummy echoing in the quiet basement and she mentally chants _don't you dare bring up Moira, Felicity Smoak! _over and over again. But she's never been good at keeping her thoughts to herself and she's never possessed a brain-to-mouth filter so she blows out a breath and then blurts out: "I'm sorry."

Oliver's movements still once again and it takes all of her self-control to stop her from fidgeting because she can _feel _his eyes on her. She's sorry for so many things that she's not really sure what she's apologizing for at the moment but the seconds tick by and she is _sure _they are doomed to suffer in the silence forever, but then, "are you apologizing to me or your computers?"

Felicity nearly squeaks in surprise and she twirls her chair around so she can face him once again and she sees the small quirk of his lips, the one that resembles a smile, so she takes that, and the fact that he doesn't start hitting the poor dummy again, as the go-ahead to keep talking. "I don't talk to my computers." She pauses. "That's a lie – I do, totally. But I wasn't –"

Oliver huffs, an exasperated laugh falling from his lips as he shakes his head, his eyes briefly flicking over to her before he goes back to glaring at the dummy.

She watches him, watches the creases that form on his forehead, and she resists the urge to rush to his side and smooth them away with her thumb because it makes her heart hurt when he wears his broody-arrow face. But it is enough for her to refocus on the reason she came to the lair in the first place and she blows out a breath, preparing herself for yelling because, yeah, there is totally an 83% chance that he's going to yell. Unless he's talked to Moira. In which case he probably has the yelling out of his system and it's his mother's face his picturing on the dummy and not hers.

"To make sure we're on the same page..." she begins. "What, _exactly_, were you taking out on that dummy?" Felicity asks, then cringes.

Wow. Wrong thing to ask.

She _knows _what, or rather, _who_, he's pissed at. It's her. Totally her. She should have kept her mouth shut and –

"I talked to my mother," Oliver says finally, so softly she almost can't hear him.

His eyes lock onto her and she immediately looks away, regret filling her because she knows what that conversation had been about and she knows it hadn't been the most pleasant of conversations. Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut – no. She doesn't regret telling him the truth. She just wishes she had found another way, or another time.

Oliver backs away from the dummy and makes his way over to her, his thigh brushing up against her shoulder as he leans against the desk. "She wanted to talk – to make excuses, actually." He corrects and then he pauses, but he doesn't look at her. "She said she kept it a secret to protect Thea from Malcolm." He crosses his arms over his chest, releasing a deep sigh as his head falls back. "And, there's probably some truth to that. But it doesn't change the fact that she lied, that she hid it from the both of us."

"Maybe… maybe she _was _trying to protect –" Mother of Google, is she really defending Moira Queen right now?

"Felicity." He interrupts, rubbing the back of his neck. "This came up during her trial. Not directly, but…"

Oliver doesn't say anything beyond that but he doesn't really have to; because Felicity knows that she isn't the only one that doesn't trust Moira Queen. Not after everything. "But you knew she was hiding something."

"Yeah. And I – I _asked _her what she was hiding. Thea and I, we… we went to her and we told her that she could tell us whatever it was –" He takes a deep breath. "But she still didn't tell us. She _never _had any intention of telling us."

"What – what happened," she licks her lips, "when you talked to your mom?"

His chuckle, low and dangerous, is so bitter that she feels her heart crack. "We're done." His voice is an octave lower when he speaks again, his tone sounding more like his arrow-voice than Oliver Queen. "I told her that I'd keep up appearances for Thea's sake and for the public, but _we _are done."

Another crack to her heart, an open fault line. "Oliver –"

He must hear the guilt in her voice because he closes his eyes and faintly shakes his head. "Felicty, _don't_."

His tone is gentle but final. Felicity nods slowly and struggles to hold back the tears she can feel stinging her eyes, but after the past couple of days his words are the landslide that finally unravel her because she never wanted this. "Oliver, I –" her voice catches in her throat as she screws her eyes shut, "I am _so _sorry."

"Felicity –" His eyes were suddenly on her.

"I should have left well enough alone. I shouldn't have gone digging –"

"_Felicity_." His tone successfully puts an end to what was undoubtedly about to become a babble, and then he reaches over and lets his hand cover hers. "Thank you," he whispers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

Felicity lets out a watery laugh before she looks at him, "for destroying your relationship with your mother?"

"For having my back –" he squeezes her hand lightly – " like you always do."

Felicity hears the sincerity in his voice but there's something else there, too. It reminds her of _you're not my employee, you're my partner _and _hey, you're not going to lose me _but it also feels like more than that. It feels like more than a comforting hand on her shoulder. But this isn't the first time he's held her hand and it isn't the first time he looked at her like this. The first time, he had called her remarkable. The second time, it was _there was no choice to make._

Then his hand his gone, he's back on his feet and he is making his way over to the training dummy once again, but that _something _still lingers between them and she knows that everything will be okay in time. Oliver will be okay. They will be okay.

Actually, for the first time in a long time, she lets herself believe that everything will be _great_.

**. . .**

But the next day she is reminded just how much the world hates her when the elevator dings, the sound echoing and loud on the empty floor, and she is met with the determined face of Moira Queen. She curses herself for thinking that everything would be okay and she could put this whole mess behind her, because she _knew _this was coming. Mrs. Queen is a lot of things, but she isn't one for loose ends.

Felicity cringes when the woman's heels click against the floor and she pushes herself up to stand, her nails digging into the armrests of her chair. "Mrs. Queen." Her voice is steady and for once in her life she doesn't babble or fidget. "Uh, are you here to see Oliver? I mean… Mr. Queen. Because he's –"

"He is in an investors' meeting and afterwards he has a reservation for lunch with Thea at Table Salt." Moira interrupts smoothly as she turns on her heel and starts walking around the office, an amused expression crossing her face when she looks pointedly at the mess scattered across the desk.

Felicity blinks in surprise. "Uh –"

"That's right," Moira smiles as she sits in a chair across from Felicity, crossing her legs and looking effortlessly graceful and _cold_all at once. "I know everything. But I'm not here to talk to my son, I'm here to talk to you. And given how… _skilled _you are at solving puzzles –" she runs her hands down her thighs, smoothing down her skirt before she focuses on Felicity – "I'm sure you're smart enough to figure out what it is I wish to discuss."

Her teeth catches her bottom lip as she sits back down in chair, and she considers her options, considers playing the dumb blonde that so many people mistake her for when they first meet her. But that – the masks and the lies and the games – is _not _who she is. It's not someone she wants to be. "You want to discuss Oliver."

"No. Not at all, Felicity."

She flinches at how her name sounds rolling off the woman's lips, having the opposite effect that it does when Oliver interrupts her with a smile and a soft _Felicity._

Moira continues, "I want talk about _you_."

Felicity tenses. "Me?"

Moira's lips twitch into a fleeting smirk. "Since our last conversation, and what occurred as a result of it, I've been asking around – _about you_. Everyone seems to say the same thing; that you had a promising future in the IT Department. Many believe that you would have been chosen to head that department when your supervisor retired in a couple of years. Yet here you are – " she waves her hand and gestures to where Felicity is sitting – "playing _assistant_."

Felicity purses her lips and thinks about all of the rumors that sprung up when Oliver chose her to be his EA. "Queen Consolidated was a mess when Oliver became CEO. He wanted to surround himself with people he could trust so he wouldn't have to worry about a knife to the back while he tried to save this company – and, in light of the events from the past couple of days I really can't really blame him because... well, _reasons._ And Oliver trusts me. He trusts me to have his back while he fights for the company that _your _actions –" Her mind catches up with her mouth and she squeezes her eyes shut in horror, counting down. _3… 2… 1… _Felicity blows out a breath and refocuses her gaze on Moira. "I'm here because I choose to be. I'm here to help my friend."

Moira levels her with a look then. "And friends have always been a rarity for you, haven't they?"

Blue eyes dart down to her desk as she tightens the hold she has on the armrests of her chair. Felicity tries to ignore those biting words but she cannot deny the truth in them – friends _have _been a rarity for her. But in the sixth grade when her teachers skipped her ahead and she had to go from the middle school to the high school for half a day, suddenly she'd had nothing in common with her classmates. Not even her age.

Then when she was a freshman her math teacher had arranged for her to take an evening class at the local college.

And she had _loved _it.

But, as the common interests between her and her classmates, few as they were, disappeared, she started spending more and more time with her nose stuck in a book or behind a computer screen. Her mother had disapproved, of course she had, and one day the guidance councilor had asked to see her because _it's okay to have interests, Miss Smoak _but _everyone needs friends_. But no one wanted to be friends with the know-it-all that couldn't control her mouth or her frizzy hair.

So friends _have _been a rarity for her but now she has Oliver and Digg – she even considers Sara to be a potential friend. Felicity makes a mental note to call the other blonde later to ask how it went with her family the night before.

"That is why you no longer worry me, Miss Smoak. Oliver may not blame you for single-handedly ruining our relationship, but we both know how long my son tends to keep his… _friends_." Her smirk can only be described as cruel.

"I –"

"No. You don't get to speak. You don't get to do anything." Moira rises to her feet. "Oliver may have decided to stand by you this time, but nothing will ever change the fact that _I _am his mother. He is my _son _and he will forgive me in time, just as surely as he will tire of your babbling and abundance of short skirts. _Just like he always does_."

Felicity's heart pounds in her chest, her insecurities bubbling to the surface again, and she struggles to remember what Oliver has shown her time and time again. _Hey. You're not going to lose me._

"All I ask is that, in the meantime, you keep your nose out of places it doesn't belong before you _destroy _the remaining semblance of family my children have left. Oh, and Miss Smoak?" Moira pauses in her strides towards the door, training her eyes on her son's assistant once again. Her voice is ice cold and Felicity feels no shame when she flinches because, _wow_, she suddenly knows who Oliver learned his low growly-arrow voice from. "Just because _you _have no family, it does not mean you can steal mine."

Felicity can barely breathe, let alone speak.

"Have a good day." And then she's gone.

**TBC.**


	2. Part II

**AN: **Holy notifications, Batman! It scared me a little so this chapter is a lot later than intended, but it's finally at the point where it can be shared with all of you wonderful people. Honestly all I can say is that you are all awesome and each of you that reviewed, favorite, and followed have my thanks. You certainly know how to make a girl feel welcomed.

Oliver/Felicity is not really what this chapter focuses on. It mostly deals with the consequences and what happens as a result of the last chapter because, well, there are issues. Gotta establish those first because… _reasons _and _angst_.

Plus, _yay_, for me bringing more characters into this. Wasn't the intention but it just… kinda happened.

**. . .**

**Part II.**

Oliver knows about his reputation at Queen Consolidated. It's hard _not _to notice when he hears the disdain in Isabel's voice when he is late for another meeting, when he sees the glares and judgement people aim his way when he hastily leaves an event with his assistant, when he sees people look at him with a look that says he shouldn't be CEO.

Most people look at him and they still see the same stupid kid that got on that yacht six years ago. Just another playboy. A boy too stupid to realize just how lucky he is and how good he has it. One that is rash and does things without thinking them through, without any consideration for the consequences – the stupid kid that cheated on Laurel with her sister instead of just _saying _that he wasn't ready for the commitment his girlfriend wanted from him.

Everyone else, the people at the company, think that he is nothing more than a kid playing dress-up; that he puts on a suit every morning and stumbles through meetings with investors and the board of directors while trying to be Robert Queen. It makes sense in a way, given the fact that he's dropped out of four Ivy League schools, never completed college, and doesn't have a background in business. Oliver Queen is the CEO because it is his name on the building.

He grunts, realizing that he's been reading the same line for the past five minutes and he doesn't remember anything that he's read so far. This mask, the playboy CEO, the business man, is the most exhausting for him to don.

Oliver knows it disappointed his parents, him dropping out of college after college, but the truth was he had known even back then that he didn't want to be his father or run Queen Consolidated.

Oliver slumps forward in his chair and lets his exhaustion show, knowing that no else is on the executive floor. Diggle went to grab some take-out, he knows, and Felicity went to deliver some files to Isabel's office. But that was only after she threatened to use her _loud voice _if he hadn't made any progress with the papers on his desk by the time she got back.

She has been harping on him about them all day but he knows he has to get through the papers on his desk. He knows they are important. Isabel had stormed in earlier that day stressing how important it was that he looked over the papers from legal and signed them before the meeting on Monday – the one about the new project from Applied Sciences.

But he _cannot _focus on the papers in front of him.

Honestly, he hasn't been able to focus on _anything _since his mother's public announcement two weeks before.

He has been avoiding the house as much as he can. He is gone each morning before anyone else in the house stirs and he spends his nights as the Arrow, returning home in the early hours of the morning when his mother and sister are asleep – though nowadays it's rare for Thea to _not _spend the night at Roy's.

But Thea is attentive, much more observant than people give her credit for, and he _knows _if she hasn't noticed something's wrong already then it is only a matter of time before she _does_.

Oliver knows that eventually he'll have to tell her another lie and, for that, he hates his mother the most.

_That is what you are, Mom. Lies. And now you've made a liar of me. Because Thea can never know the truth._

Oliver feels his entire body tense when he hears the elevator open, but then he hears the familiar sound of heels clicking against the floor and he relaxes. His lips faintly twitch upwards in amusement and his eyes crinkle around the edges – a look he reserves _just _for Felicity. Exasperation mixed with amusement and admiration.

It's a look that, if more people were to see it, he knows they would _never _believe Felicity Smoak is _just _his EA.

"Felicity," he huffs under his breath, raising his head, "I was just about to call Diggle and have him send out search and rescue…"

Oliver feels his previous tension – tension that had dissipated just _thinking _about Felicity – return as the muscles in his back coil. He sits up straighter in his chair because the woman in front of him is _not _his quirky blonde partner.

"_Mom_," his voice is tight as he pushes himself to his feet, "what are you doing here?"

Moira bristles at his tone, frowning at the sight of him. "You haven't returned _any _of my phone calls, Oliver." Her arms cross loosely over her stomach, her expensive purse bumping her hip as she comes to a halt in front of his desk. "So I'm left to resort to checking in _person _whether or not you're attending the gala tonight."

One of his hands ball up into a fist because his mother already _knows _he is attending, she just wants to get him alone so she can try and plead her case _again_, and his forefinger starts scraping at the edge of his thumb. "I told you that I would continue to support your campaign and keep up pretenses for the public." A muscle in his jaw ticks. "Anything else?"

His mother refuses to back down but, then again, he has never known her to back down from a fight. "Yes," tight lines form around her eyes and mouth as she sweeps her piercing gaze over him, "It would be embarrassing for us both if you couldn't at least appear to be my son tonight."

"Lucky for _us_," Oliver begins as he moves around his desk and makes his way towards the door to his office, "I've gotten pretty good at pretending to be someone I'm not." His gaze hardens as he swings the door open, the message clear. "I learned it from _you_, Mom."

"Fine." Moira turns around, moving swiftly towards the door, "Just don't be late. _For once_."

**. . .**

He has been beating up low lives in the Glades for so long that he cannot remember a time when he _didn't _go out looking for a fight, but things are different now. He no longer goes looking for a fight to release his anger and he no longer does it for the sole purpose of making someone else feel just a fraction of the pain he feels buried deep down in his soul – he does it to help people. He does it to help the Arrow. _Oliver_.

He _needs _this.

Not just because he has a hero complex – according to Thea, anyway – but because he _knows _he needs to learn how to control his new strength and the anger that feels like fire in his veins. He was six kinds of angry before the mirakuru but now it is always there, constant, always brimming under the surface.

But Thea, his love _for_ Thea, always manages to anchor him when he starts to feel himself lose control. It doesn't surprise him. She became his anchor long before some psychopath in a skull mask injected him with the mirakuru.

Thea is the _one _good thing he has in his life and he knows now that _that's _the reason he had been so out of control when he'd first been injected.

He'd been afraid and that fear had manifested as blinding rage.

He had been _so _afraid he would hurt someone else. Hurt _Thea._

He had been afraid that he would end up _losing _Thea.

Because when it comes to life with or without Thea, Roy knows that life _with _her will always win, but he also knows that he would be the first one to walk away from their relationship if he was afraid he would hurt her in some way.

He takes a deep breath to clear his mind of those thoughts – his deepest fears – and he reaches for another arrow, notching it in the bow Oliver had given him nearly a month ago with the firm instruction to at least _try _to resist the urge to shoot someone. Diggle had snorted in amusement. Felicity had smiled brightly at him before poking him in the chest and threatening to ensure he spent the next decade on the no fly list if he hurt her computers – her 'babies' she had called them. _Honestly._

Roy smiles at the memory and draws back the bow easily with his new strength, inhaling deeply, and then he releases the arrow in time with his breath and watches as it sails through the air before embedding itself just outside of the target.

Just like _all _of the arrows he's fired.

"_Ugh_." His eyes narrow as he lets the bow fall back down to his side. "You'd think _eventually _I'd hit something," he mutters under his breath.

He hears a clang, then a soft thud, and he turns just in time to see his companion pull on a shirt over her sports bra as she walks away from the salmon ladder she has been torturing herself with for the past hour. "Be patient," Sara says easily as she walks up to him to size up the box he's been using as a target. "Ollie makes it look easy."

Sara's smile comes easy and it threatens to floor him because he still finds it hard to reconcile the woman beside him with the blonde vigilante who kicked his ass all those months before. It was a shock finding out the woman in black was back in Starling City and working _with _the Arrow – but not as much of a shock as it had been when her face had been plastered over every news broadcast two weeks before.

He'd been sweeping the floor, trying to figure out the enigma that was the woman in black, who he had met officially the night before, and then he had seen his girlfriend dive for the remote before turning the television up so loud that its volume rivalled the music that bounced off the walls each night.

_Sara Lance is alive! _– they'd announced.

Just like they had done over a year ago when Oliver Queen had been found on an island in the North China sea.

He hears the familiar clicking of heels on the stairs before he hears her voice

"Yes, that he does." Felicity agrees as she comes into view with her hand wrapped securely around Oliver's wrist – when she adopted that habit, Roy doesn't know – and it's obvious they came straight from QC.

Roy waits for the comment he knows is coming – _and he usually looks good while doing it_, is the one that comes to mind and he finds himself anticipating her ramble and the way she tends to verbally dig herself into a hole – but the word vomit he has come to associate with the blonde doesn't follow.

His eyes easily track her movements through the lair when she releases her hold on Oliver, his eyebrows meeting his hairline when she quietly sits in her chair, and he knows he isn't the only one that notices. Diggle is aiming one of his signature _looks _at the tech genius from where he is standing. Even Sara looks at Felicity, her bright eyes swimming with confusion and uncertainty.

Oliver seems to be the only one that fails to notice – which is _really _fucking weird because the two of them are usually in tune with each other, aware of where the other is at all times, speaking with glances and simple touches – but it only takes a quick glance to see the tension in Oliver's shoulders and the way he keeps flexing his jaw and clenching his fists.

Oliver is _pissed_.

He's been pissed for _weeks_.

Oliver quickly grabs his workout clothes and disappears from view just as Roy hears his phone go off – the alarm telling him it is time for him to head upstairs with Thea.

Felicity stares intently at her computer as he walks past her. "How did…" Her voice trails off as she looks up from her three screens, her bright blue eyes immediately zeroing in on the bow in his hands and she feels her heart stutter to a stop as she frantically inspects the area around her computers.

She sees _red _and she swears if there is just one arrow anywhere near her babies she is going to ask Digg to hold Roy down for her while she uses her loud voice and stabs him with said arrow. It sounds extreme but he'll be okay. He has the mirakuru in his system. He _might _resemble a pincushion when she's done with him but he _will _heal. Roy survived Oliver shooting him in the leg without any lasting damage and –

Roy chuckles and she knows, she just _knows_, that she said that part out loud. "Relax, Brainy Smurf." He puts the bow away, relief washing over him now that he has heard her ramble, and he pulls on his shirt and signature red hoodie. "I didn't go anywhere near your computers. I _promise_." He rolls his eyes.

Felicity tilts her head to the side, spinning her chair around and watching him thoughtfully, letting herself believe that the eye roll is a good sign. It _is_, after all, a lot nicer than the sneers some people aim her way when she loses control her mouth, letting her brand of crazy out, and it's an improvement over the wary looks he had been aiming in her direction when he was first brought into Team Arrow.

But still… "_Brainy Smurf_?"

Roy smirks as he takes the stairs up from the foundry two at a time, pausing to take a deep breath before he opens the door and makes his way into the club. Immediately he hears the sound of his girlfriend's voice and the clicking of shoes that inform him that she's pacing.

His eyebrows furrow in the middle of his forehead when she comes into view. Thea is annoyed, he can see it in her expression – he can see it in the tight lines around her eyes and the small pout that always distracts him, drawing his gaze to her lips, when she is annoyed with _him_. He doesn't know _who _she is on the phone with, but he feels pity for the poor bastard.

Thea is cute and tenacious but she can also be scary as _hell_.

"What's up, Abercrombie?"

Roy huffs in amusement at the familiar nickname and when he turns to the left he isn't surprised when he sees Sin. He isn't sure when he started _expecting _to find her with Thea, but he can't say he's disappointed or surprised.

Thea always seems willing to give people the benefit of the doubt.

And Sin had been in need of friends and she's found some – in him and in Thea.

He walks over to her, his amusement growing when he sees his friend going through the music on Thea's IPod. "Hey," he nods, knocking his knuckles against the table as his eyes drift back to Thea. "Do you know what that" – he juts out his chin to gesture to his pacing girlfriend – "is about?"

Sin shrugs one of her shoulders lightly, her face twisting in disgust as she keeps her attention on the playlist she is going through. "Something involving Amanda? Mandy? _Something _like that. Her Highness has been yelling for 45 minutes now." Her lips curl into a smirk. "Your girl's got some lungs on her, Harper."

"_Nice_." He snorts, pushing away from the table, making his way towards Thea.

"No… Miranda!" Thea turns on her heels, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration as she continues pacing. "No… no, you listen to me. You cannot… that is so not the –"

Roy hears his girlfriend actually growl then, her voice dropping an octave, and suddenly he sees the resemblance between her and Oliver.

"You _cannot _quit hours before this place opens for the night, Miranda. Not on the night _you _were supposed to work… fine." Thea growls, sliding her thumb across the screen before she slams her phone down on the counter by the bar. "_Thanks_," she grumbles sarcastically, "for _nothing_."

He walks up behind her and his hands land on her shoulders. "Hey…" Roy says softly, murmuring in her ear, his calloused fingers slowly running up and down her arms when he feels the tension there. "What was that about?"

Thea leans back against his chest. "Thought you had wicked good hearing, Harper?"

Roy can't help it; he grins. "You're avoiding the question, Queen."

"'_Avoid' _is…" Thea sighs, "is a strong word."

Then the hands on her shoulders are gently pushing her, urging her to turn around and face Roy, and she scowls as she lets him turn her because there is _no _way he is going to let this go. Roy, for all _he _refuses to talk about what is bothering _him_, he _always _makes her voice whatever-it-is that is bothering her.

He made her talk when she was _pissed _at her brother for leaving after Tommy's funeral.

He made her talk when she refused to visit her mother at Iron Heights.

He made her hit him when she was angry about her testimony.

"Thea."

Thea folds her lips together and then she sighs, answering him. "Miranda just called and _quit _and we're opening in a couple of –"

"Thea," Roy's eyebrows meet his hairline and the smug smirk that she both hates and loves etches into his face. "I think we both know that Miranda quitting isn't what's really bothering you. You've been tense all week."

Fire lights in her eyes as she scowls, but then the fire fades and she slumps forward. "I know people think I'm shallow – that they think I'm the… the _kiddie pool _of shallow…" Thea sighs, her face scrunched up in thought. "But I'm more perceptive than people think I am. I _know_ something is… different. Something is different; something is _wrong_, but I don't know what it is so I don't know how to _fix it_."

Roy keeps his face neutral but his heart pounds because he thought she was _done _pestering him about what he was hiding from her. "Something is different…?" He clears his throat. "With what?"

His mind is already scrambling for a believable excuse.

_Thea_, Oliver had sighed, _she can never know._

"With Mom and Oliver." Thea answers and he blinks in surprise be he wasn't expecting _that_. "Ollie is avoiding her and they don't talk anymore unless they're somewhere they can't avoid it and now tonight there's this gala thing Mom's hosting to raise money and –"

"Have you talked to them about it?"

"I've _tried_." Her eyes narrow. "But Mom insists that _everything is fine, Thea!_" Thea mocks angrily as she tries to mimic her mother's voice, "And Ollie is never home anymore and when he's at the club he – he avoids the conversation whenever I try to bring it up."

Roy sighs and tugs her towards him and into his body while one arm wraps around her waist, the other one moving to cradle the back of her head. "Hey. Let's just find another bartender who can cover tonight and then make it through this fundraiser _thing_." Disgust laces his voice as he thinks about the tux he'll be forced into later, but it is so worth it when he hears her laugh.

"One battle at a time?"

"Something like that," Roy grins. "You never know, maybe they're just stressed out?" He suggests but his heart isn't in it because, while his girlfriend hasn't seen much of Oliver, _Roy _has been down in the foundry a couple nights a week and he's seen how tense and distracted Oliver's been. "You know, with… the fundraiser and the campaign and the company and, just, _everything_."

Thea sighs as she listens to his heartbeat. "God," she mumbles, "I _really _hope you're right."

**. . .**

Oliver grunts as his back slams hard into the sparring mat, Sara moving to straddle him before he can retaliate. He struggles uselessly for several moments, ignoring the smug expression hovering above him, but then the cool metal of her bo-staff is under his chin and he can hear the distinct sound of laughter coming from the other end of the foundry.

"You give up yet, Ollie?" Sara grins.

He scowls at her lightly and his skin glistens with sweat as he catches his breath, and he can't help but let his eyes roam over Sara. Sara who, in this moment, looks _so _much like the girl he once knew with a smug smirk on her lips and bright eyes dancing with mirth.

But nothing is like it once was.

Everything is different; everything has _changed_.

"Looks like she kicked your ass firmly and effectively from where I'm sitting, Oliver." Diggle pipes from where he's leaned up against Felicity's desk, his arms crossed over his chest as he continues to smirk at the two vigilantes.

Sara quirks at eyebrow at him.

Oliver rolls his eyes and taps her thigh twice, watching as the assassin quickly releases him and rolls to her feet. He stays on his back for an extra moment, the tension from earlier faded now that he's in the safety of the foundry.

There are no lies here.

His masks are off – both the vigilante and the CEO – and he is surrounded by the people he doesn't have to lie to.

"Don't worry." Sara taunts as she holds out a hand to him, one he gratefully accepts before he allows her to haul him to his feet. "I promise I didn't scratch your pretty face. I know you have that fundraiser thing for you mom later."

He feels the coils in his back wind up again as he turns around and retrieves his water bottle, taking a deep breath as he moves to stand as far away as he can from the rest of the team – torn between needing the slight distance and yearning to be close to them. Truth is, he isn't looking forward to the gala tonight.

He has been to hundreds of them – both before and since the island – but what he once viewed as a waste of time he now considers to be a _chore_. Oliver knows that he'll have to don the old familiar mask of billionaire playboy and, since his mother is hosting the event as a way of gaining favor with the people and raising money for the Glades, he also knows he'll have to act the proud son.

Oliver tenses when he hears movement behind him, but instantly forces himself to relax when he hears the clicking of heels. "Oliver?" Felicity calls out when she is still several feet from him, giving him the chance to turn around and face her before she's in his space. It is the little things like that, Diggle and Felicity knowing not to sneak up on him or corner him that mean the world to him.

"We should probably wrap things up here. We still have to get ready for tonight, which is going to be _such _a hassle because women have to put so much more effort into getting ready for these things, not because we _want _to, but because _society _tells us we have to." Felicity continues, annoyance engraving her face at the mere thought of it, but then she's brushing it off and waving her hand half-heartedly towards him. "And you have to go grab a shower because, you know, while you don't have to squeeze into a dress and pinch-y shoes, I'm pretty sure it's not acceptable to be all hot and bothered… I mean, hot and sweaty… _dammit, _3… 2… 1…"

Oliver stares down at her for a long moment, then a faint quirk to his lips.

Felicity's babbling never fails to soften his expression, her soft cadence washing over him and bringing light into the darkest corners of his soul. She is his flicker of light amongst an ocean of darkness, keeping him afloat as he stumbles through board meetings and saving the city from the crime that wants to poison it.

She is his confidant, his friend, his _partner_, but he has never told her how much her quick smiles and endless random tangents brighten his day. Instead he relies on simple touches and long looks to say all of the things that he can't, that he is _afraid_, to put into words.

When he returned from Lian Yu – the _second _time – Felicity told him that there is no Team Arrow without Oliver Queen.

But he knows that there's no Oliver Queen without Felicity Smoak.

Felicity reaches out and tentatively reaches for his hand, her fingers curling around his wrist like it had all those weeks ago when he had been haunted by ghosts. "C'mon, Broody-Arrow." Her hand slides down his arm, slipping into his when he opens his clenched fists, gently leading him back to the team; back to the light.

Diggle's eyes light with amusement when they come into view, focusing on their intertwined hands, but an indignant glare is enough for him to back off. Because, while he recognizes he isn't the most perceptive person in the world, Oliver _has _noticed the changes in Felicity.

She still rambles but she is quieter, more content to let silence surround them for intervals of time, and when they're in the safety and privacy of the foundry he finds that she has been reaching for him more frequently since his mother's public announcement.

Like she's trying to remind herself that he's still there, that she hasn't lost him.

_Just the… just the thought of losing someone that important to me again –_

_Hey. You're not going to lose me_.

Felicity carefully extracts her hand from his hold and goes about collecting her jacket and purse as he pulls on a shirt, his eyes carefully tracking her movements through the foundry until he sees another flash of blonde hair out of the corner of his eyes.

Sara offers a small quirk of her lips as she moves to stand in front of him, her head tilting to the side as she eyes him carefully, looking for any sign of his previous tension. "You…" she trails off and he knows from her pointed look at that she noticed that he's already putting up his mask. "You sure you don't need back-up tonight?"

"I've been attending these things since my parents could wrestle me into a tux." Oliver quirks an eyebrow. "I think I have this covered."

Sara looks down at the floor, her lips folding together as she contemplates something and she looks almost _uncertain_. "I could…" she trails off and clucks her tongue. "… I could do a sweep, or man the lair while –"

Heels frantically click against the floor. "_What – _no!" Felicity interrupts as she shakes her head firmly, her ponytail bouncing from shoulder to shoulder, Diggle at her side. "We have already talked about this, Sara. You _are _going to that dinner."

Oliver furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but the question comes from Diggle. "What dinner?"

"Family dinner." Sara huffs, crossing her arms over her stomach. "It… it's at _Laurel's_."

Oliver feels his heart clench when he sees the discomfort on Sara's face. He remembers Sara walking into the foundry two weeks before, the day after he learned his mother's secret, the day after his talk with Felicity, and he remembers how _vulnerable _the seasoned assassin had looked.

_Laurel wasn't as happy to see me as you thought_, she'd said, and it had broken his heart because he remembers how close the two of them used to be: before the lies and the sneaking around and the yacht.

But Oliver also remembers what Laurel said to him the first time she saw him when he came back.

_She was my sister! I couldn't be angry because she was dead, I couldn't grieve because I _was _so angry – that's what happens when your sister dies while screwing your boyfriend._

And Laurel might not know him anymore, who he _really _is now, but he knows her well enough to know what she did. Laurel bottled it all up and turned all of the hurt and anger and grief into determination. She went to law school, became a lawyer. She never let herself feel that anger, unable to hate her little sister because she was dead…

But Sara _isn't _dead and now, six years later, Laurel is finally unleashing all of the pain she's refused to let herself feel.

Sara juts out her chin stubbornly. "But I don't _have _to go. This" – she gestures around the foundry – "is important."

Bright blue eyes fill with tears because _this _is not more important than the assassin reconnecting with her sister and her parents, it's not more important than _family_. "Sara…" Felicity pleads softly because she has to get through to Sara. Sara needs to understand just how lucky she is because the tech genius would _kill _to have what the other blonde has. To have a family.

_Miss Smoak_, Moira's voice is ice cold. _Just because you have no family, it does not mean you can steal mine._

Felicity knows she has the attention of everyone in the lair – Digg is looking at her with a signature look, one that _promises _he's going to question her about this later, and Oliver is frowning at her in confusion because he doesn't have all the pieces and doesn't understand – but she focuses on the eyes meeting hers. She focuses on Sara.

Her voice is small, barely more than a whimper, and her she knows her face is going to crumple if she doesn't get this out _now_. "Your family is important, too," is what she says.

She doesn't say _at least you have a family_.

She doesn't say _at least your father never left you._

She doesn't say _at least your mom is warm and supportive._

Her throat tightens and her heart pounds in her chest, but she manages a bright and supportive smile. "Sara, you… you're a certified badass. You can handle _one _normal family dinner." Felicity brushes past the other blonde and her next words are directed at the two men that are tracking her movements through the foundry as she heads to the exit: "I'll meet you guys there."

**. . .**

Moira squares her shoulders and plasters a smile on her face as she walks towards Oliver, relief washing over her when she notes that he acting his part perfectly despite their earlier words. "Oliver, darling, there you are." Her voice is infused with warmth and is sweet like honey, her hand resting on his shoulder. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

Oliver tenses, his muscles coiling beneath her fingers, and she watches his jaw tick. "Excuse me," his tone is polite but there is an undercurrent of anger brewing in his words as he allows his mother to lead him away from the conversation he'd been having. He grits his teeth but keeps his smile in place. "Was there something you needed?"

"Honestly, Oliver." Moira heaves a sigh as she moves in front of him and pretends to fix his bowtie, a fire lighting in her eyes when she meets his – blue eyes that make him so much like Robert. "How much longer are we going to continue this endless display of animosity? I'm not sure how much longer I can weather this."

His eyebrows knit together and he reads the sincerity of her words but he shakes his head as one of his hands reaches up to grasp her hands, gently tugging them free of his bowtie. "Mom, we already had this talk. We're _done_" – _as of right now we have no relationship_, he'd said and he stands by it because he is tired of pretending. He isn't the son she lost when the yacht went down and she isn't the mother he left behind on the docks – "because _I _can't weather any more of your lies."

"Oliver…" her voice trails off as he leans in to press a kiss on her cheek before he walks away, and her traitorous heart reminds her that _this _is why she had refused to tell her children the truth during her trial. But Moira also knows that there is a chance this could have been avoided if she'd listened to her son and gave the truth its day.

"Mom! _Mom_" – a hand reaches for her elbow and turns her around, her eyes immediately locking onto a confused Thea – "is everything okay?" Thea's eyebrows knit together in a way that makes her look so much like her brother before her gaze drifts over to Oliver. "Mom," she sighs, "_what _is going on with you and Ollie?"

Moira heaves a sigh and raises her hands to cup her daughter's face, her thumbs brushing over her cheeks. "Nothing, Thea." Her heart constricts at how easily the lie rolls off her tongue but she has been lying for so long that she doesn't know if she could stop even if she wanted to.

"Mom…"

"Everything is fine." Her lipstick leaves a stain on her daughter's forehead when she presses a soft kiss against her skin, and Moira can't help but wonder if Thea would still accept such simple gestures of affection if she knew the truth about Malcolm.

_Now you've made a liar of me because Thea, _Oliver had said, _can never know the truth… about Merlyn._

Thea can't know the truth.

Moira smiles and she doesn't feel the lie pass her lips, but she hears it: "I promise."

**. . .**

_Felicity, what is going on with you? _

_He will hate you, too._

_And don't say – don't say nothing…_

_I see the way you look at him._

_Hey. You're not going to lose me._

_Oh, and, Miss Smoak? Just because you have no family, it does not mean you can steal mine._

She shakes her thoughts clear and takes a deep breath.

Emerald green and adorned with sequins that start just below her breasts, Felicity allows herself a small smile as she takes in her reflection. Long and luxurious material spills down her body and accentuates each and every curve until it lands in folds at her gold strapped heels, covering her feet like a river.

Felicity had been pissed when she was _demoted _to being an EA – because would it have killed Oliver to _ask _her instead of making the decision without consulting her first? – but she admits that she enjoys the increase in salary that comes with the job.

So does her wardrobe.

The amount of clothes – dresses, blouses, skirts, and _oh _the shoes – in her closest have nearly tripled since she reluctantly became Executive Assistant to the CEO.

She combs her fingers through her hair to give each curl a more natural look and forces herself to _not _think about the gala she will be attending and who is throwing said gala. Bile rises in her throat as she thinks about Moira Queen – _Miss Smoak_, Moira's voice is ice cold. _Just because you have no family, it does not mean you can steal mine _– but Felicity knows Moira is just as thrilled about her being there as she is.

Being the persona non grata at the fundraiser is high on her to-don't list but she promised Oliver.

Staring into her reflection long after she's done, Felicity repeats the same phrase over and over until it is the only thing resounding in her head.

"You're doing this for Oliver… you're doing this for Oliver… you're doing this for _**Oliver**_…"

She stops herself after the tenth time and takes a deep breath.

Bright blue eyes fall closed. "You're not going to lose Oliver." Felicity nods her head before she makes her way through her small apartment, throwing on her coat before she grabs her clutch off a small end table and her keys out of a bowl. "You're not going to lose him," she repeats as she steps out into the hall and turns to lock the door. "He _promised_."

Felicity squeezes her eyes to collect herself, throwing her keys into her clutch before she squares her shoulders and walks towards the other end of the empty hallway, her heels clacking against the floor until she reaches the elevator. Her pointer finger – painted a sparkly gold, the exact same shade as her strappy heels – reaches out to press the down button and she resists the urge to fidget as she waits.

She is doing this for Oliver, not Moira.

Because Oliver is her friend.

_We both know how long my son tends to keep his… friends. _

Her heart starts to pound in her chest, the fast rhythm echoing in her ears, and her finger darts out to press the button again. Those cruel words repeat over and over again in her head – she hates herself for it, because she knows in her heart they aren't true, and it has been _two _weeks so she should be over it by now – and it takes all of her self-control to stop herself from fleeing back to her apartment because the last thing she wants to is to see Moira Queen.

Felicity startles when the elevator door opens, her hand flying to rest over her beating heart before she enters the elevator and presses the button for the ground floor. "Oliver," she chants to herself like a mantra, "you are doing this for Oliver."

Oliver. She promised him she would attend the gala tonight and she has never broken a promise to Oliver Queen. He told her she didn't have to attend when she asked if he wanted her there, insisted he wouldn't need his Girl Friday, but she had ignored his startling blue eyes and small smile and countered by asking if he would need _his friend_.

Because Felicity knows, despite what the brooding hero told Sara, he is going to need reinforcements tonight – if only to ensure he _stays _at the gala.

Diggle promised to be there, too.

She shakes herself from her thoughts when the elevator dings, the doors opening. "Get a grip, Smoak." Felicity mutters under her breath before she steps forward into the main hall, walking past the long wall of mailboxes, pushing the front door open as she digs through her clutch for her car keys.

You're doing this for Oliver.

You're doing this for Oliver.

You're doing this for Oliver.

You're doing this –

"For Oliver?" Another voice teases, an amused lilt to his tone.

Her mouth falls open when she notices the car waiting for her at the curb, her blue eyes locking onto the driver leaning against the side with his arms crossed over his chest. "Digg…" Felicity mumbles as her head tilts to the side and her eyebrows furrow together, closing the distance between them with three easy steps. "What are you doing here? I thought, uh – I thought you were driving Oliver."

Diggle arches an eyebrow, amusement etching into his features as he offers her a slight shrug. "Boss decided he could drive himself."

Felicity folds her bright pink lips together. "Meaning Oliver sent you to get me and find out what the hell is wrong with me."

"No." Diggle grins. "He just asked me to pick you up, but thanks for admitting that something _is _bothering you." He appraises her silently for several minutes before he pushes himself away from the car and reaches for the door, opening it for her to climb inside. "Your chariot awaits, Felicity. You'll be the belle of the ball."

Felicity feels a mixture of amusement and annoyance and affection assault her as she rolls her eyes at Diggle. "You should remember I can ensure you _never _board another flight without first getting a cavity search," she mutters under her breath as she slides across the leather seat.

Her eyes narrow in mock-anger when she hears his laughter clearly even after he slams the door shut.

Diggle clucks his tongue as he slides into the driver's seat, meeting her eyes in the rear-view mirror. "Now remember, Felicity, with great power comes great responsibility." Laughter is obvious in his eyes even if she can't see the rest of her face and she is reminded just why she loves John Diggle.

He is the big brother she never had but always wanted.

It's why she isn't surprised – at least, not as much as she _should _be – that he has noticed that something has been weighing on her the past couple of weeks. Felicity can't count how many times she caught Oliver and Diggle having one of their silent conversations over her head, concern swimming in each of their eyes.

Moira Queen's words haunt her every waking moment and when she is asleep she's plagued by nightmares of losing everyone she loves the same way she lost her father. Felicity is scared to death that she is going to lose everyone she loves and she knows she should tell Digg.

Refusing to confide in him now will only hurt him, she _knows _it will, but she refuses to tell him because part of her is frightened he'll tell Oliver.

Felicity gnaws on her bottom lip as she stares out the windows at the passing people and the bright city lights. Her traitorous hearts tells her that a secret is a secret – that keeping _this _a secret is no different than if she'd decided to keep Thea's paternity a secret from Oliver – but she cannot bring herself to share this with them.

Oliver has so many burdens as it is and she _refuses _to burden him further.

He is still reeling from the _last _truth she told him about Moira. Felicity can't add to it.

Oliver has been quiet and withdrawn since she told him the truth about Thea. He does _not _need to know about her conversation – her conversation_s_, she corrects – with Moira Queen.

Felicity is drawn from her thoughts when Digg shifts in his seat and she knows, she just _knows_, that her time is up but she bites down on her tongue to keep herself from spilling the whole truth in a babble. She refuses to let herself break.

"Felicity…" his voice is warm and comforting and tears sting her eyes. "Whatever it is that's bothering you," Diggle continues when his prompt fails to elicit a reaction from her, "You _know _you can tell me, right?"

"Everything's fine, Digg." Her words are flat and are obviously a lie.

Diggle knows it too and she doesn't have to be looking at him to know that he is aiming his signature don't-bullshit-me look at the side of her head. "Yeah everything is _fine_." He deadpans with a shake of his head before a sigh passes his lips. "Look, Felicity, you hid it pretty well at first but I've been watching you the past couple of days and something is obviously bothering you."

Felicity slowly drags her eyes towards his and reluctantly meets his gaze in the rear-view mirror. Concerned brown eyes stare back at her but she can't risk him telling Oliver. "It's like I said, Digg. Everything is –"

"Everything is fine. It's all good. You can handle it." Digg finishes as he pulls up to the curb and puts the car in park, heaving a sigh before he turns around to face her properly. "Maybe that's truth but… but if you don't want to tell me what's eating at you, that's _fine_, Felicity. You don't have to."

Felicity startles when his hand grasps hers.

"That's _your _choice," he continues. "Just don't lie to me and say everything's fine, okay?"

Her teeth catch her bottom lip and her eyes dart to the window again, numerous faceless people passing the car and making their way up the steps to the gala. Felicity nods, "Okay, Digg."

"Hey…" Diggle squeezes her hand slightly. "Just promise me that if it becomes too much and you _can't _handle it on your own, that you'll come to me or Oliver. Hell, or even Roy or Sara."

Felicity rolls her head along the back of the leather seat before bobbing her head slightly when she finally looks at Diggle. "Promise," she murmurs before she leans forward and narrows her eyes. "But you know you don't have to protect me, right?"

Diggle snorts – Oliver's words from the night they brought into their team ringing in his ears: _we can protect her_ – and he levels her with a look. "Well that's tough." He says and his tone is a bit lighter now that he's reminded their girl that she doesn't have to face the world alone. "If it's all the same to you, that's one job I think I'll stay on a little while longer."

Her pink lips curve into a smile and, while it's nowhere near as wide as usual, it is a smile and that's all that matters to Diggle.

"Yeah?" Felicity questions, her bright eyes dancing with mirth.

Diggle returns her smile with one of his own, "Yeah."

He holds her gaze for several seconds to ensure his vow sinks in before he climbs out of the car and makes his way around to her door, pulling it open before he holds a hand out to help her.

Felicity rolls her eyes but there is no heat to the gesture. "You know…" Felicity muses as he effortlessly pulls her to her feet when she slides her hand into his. "I kinda love you, John Diggle.

"Well, that's good to know." Diggle chuckles lightly as she loops her arm through his, and then he leans down to press a soft kiss to the top of her head. "Because I kinda love you, too, Felicity Smoak."

**. . .**

Oliver quirks an eyebrow as he watches his sister.

Thea is trying to lead Roy through a waltz and, even from where he is standing on the edge of the dance floor, he can hear the sound of her laughter. He stores the memory away and cherishes it because he is afraid that there will come a time when he isn't privy to these moments.

If Thea finds out the truth about Malcolm…

Or if she finds out the truth about the Arrow…

His heart constricts and the thought of her hating him – the thought of her _ever _directing that betrayed look at him for any reason – causes a coldness to seep into his soul and take hold of his heart.

He has always been a hero in her eyes.

Even when he dropped out of every college he attended. Even when he partied and spent most of the week in a drunk stupor. Even when he was a screw up in every possible way he was her Ollie; her hero; her big brother that never failed at making her smile.

Oliver listens as the song comes to an end and the music fades out, and dread washes over him when he catches Thea's eyes. His sister is staring at him with an intensity that he is used to and he knows that he is about to be on the other end of an inquisition from Thea.

She knows something is wrong.

She's noticed something has shifted.

And Oliver knows she won't rest until she discovers the horrible truth.

_That is what you are, Mom. Lies. And now you've made a liar of me. Because Thea can never know._

Oliver watches as Roy leans in to kiss Thea on the side of the head, whispering something in her ear before he gives her a gentle push, and then his sister is walking towards him with steady strides and her chin held high.

Her voice is soft when she reaches him, but there is also strength and steel in her tone. "Hey, Ollie." Thea's breath escapes her in a rush and she wrings her hands together in front of her. "Can I – can I talk to you for a moment?"

Oliver nods as he closes the distance between them, his mask firmly in place. "Yeah" – his lips press into a firm line and he hates, not for the first time, that he cannot be completely honest with her – "everything okay?"

It's the wrong thing to say he realizes when his sister crosses her arms over her chest and draws herself up to her full height. "You tell me," her eyes narrow slightly but she manages to keep her voice even as she stares at him expectantly. "Aside from seeing you at the club this is the first time I've seen you all week, Ollie. You're _never _home anymore."

"Being CEO doesn't leave me with a lot of free time. I've just been busy, Thea." Oliver persists as he scratches his thumb anxiously, but his words wound flat even to him because he has never been too busy for Thea.

"Yeah?" Thea scoffs, "because it looks to me a whole lot like you're avoiding mom."

Oliver goes still. "I'm _not _avoiding mom."

His sisters levels him with a glare before she softly drawls: "_really_."

"Really," he insists, "Everything is _fine_, Thea."

Anger and disappointment flash in her eyes before she turns her head away for a moment as she collects herself. "You know," she mutters as she lifts her head and looks him in the eyes, moving to slip past him. "It was _secrets _that tore this family apart in the first place, Ollie."

He feels a pang in his heart and he reaches out to brush her shoulder, his hand travelling down her arm before tenderly catching her hand. "Speedy… _Speedy…_" he pleads as he holds her back, pleading for her to let this go because he cannot bear to rip her world apart like their mother's secrets ripped his world apart. "Everything is _fine_."

Her voice is small and fragile but there is also anger in her voice. "You are _so _lucky that your life does not revolve around lying." Thea extracts her hand from his hold and, because he knows that nothing short of the truth will stop her, he lets her.

**. . .**

Her cheeks ache from the polite _fake _smile that has been etched into her face for the past 20 minutes and she swears she would literally – the _real _literally, not the fake literally where people really mean figuratively – sell her soul to be able to walk around with a slow drip of red wine.

How Oliver manages to do this day after day, Felicity will never know. Just like she will never know what kind of vindictive bitch she must have been in a past life for her karma to be _this _bad.

"You haven't heard? Oh, Archie is devastated…"

Her karma is horrendous and for it to be _this _bad in her past life she must have been the equivalent of Isabel Rochev.

"Mother of _Google_," Felicity mumbles under her breath when the conversation switches to the latest high society gossip. She can techno-babble for hours, pausing for a minimum of breaths, and she can carry on a conversation about investments or politics or even gun control.

What she _cannot _deal with is gossip.

Felicity quietly excuses herself and makes her getaway before someone can notice but, _thankfully_, no on bats an eyelash as they continue to talk about the latest woes of poor Archie-someone.

In a whirlwind of silk and satin she flings her dress skirt aside so she can make a hasty exit – as hasty of an exit she _can _make in six inch heels, anyway – and her hand darts out to grab a flute of champagne as a waiter walks by.

Her flute finds its way to her mouth and she hums in satisfaction when the liquid slides down her throat – she would rather infiltrate another mob casino than spend another second in the same vicinity as Moira Queen, but _motherhugger _that is good champagne – as she looks around for either of her boys.

Neither of them are in sight so she downs the rest of her drink in a single gulp, quickly relieving herself of the flute before she slams her hands against the double doors that lead to the lobby and keeps walking until the music fades and all she hears is the click-clack of her heels against the marble floors.

Pausing to take a break, relief washes over her and she relishes in the silence around her and slides her heels off of her feet. "Thank _god_," Felicity moans before she continues walking through the maze of deserted hallways with her heels hanging in one hand.

She has gotten used to these kind of parties since meeting Oliver Queen – more so since she reluctantly became his assistant – but she doubts that she will ever feel like this is her scene.

Her heart stutters to a stop when a noise interrupts her solitude but her posture relaxes once again when she recognizes the familiar sound of her cell receiving a text. Felicity folds her lips together and considers ignoring it because it's probably Oliver or Digg, asking her where she is, and it would serve them right because they left her to suffer alone.

But her will-power is nonexistent and this late in the night her phone is a welcomed distraction.

Her free hand fumbles to remove her cell from where she has it poked in her bra – she shouldn't do it because it leads to breast cancer and _blah blah blah _but her gown didn't come with pockets so what is she supposed to do? – and she arches an eyebrow when she sees that she has three unread texts.

Felicity slides her thumb across the screen and her eyebrows knit together when she sees they're all from Sara:

**Sara: FORGET OLLIE. HE ISN'T THE ONE THAT NEEDS REINFORCEMENTS TONIGHT – 8:09**

**Sara: DAD LIKES YOU, RIGHT? – 9:32**

**Sara: YOU'RE COMING TO THE NEXT FAMILY DINNER – 9:55**

Helpless to it, she snorts in amusement.

Felicity can only imagine what the reaction would be if she were to attend a family dinner with Sara – she admits that her presence would _definitely, maybe _be better received than Oliver's – but she knows that she would gladly suffer through a family dinner for the Canary.

When Sara became her friend, she has no idea, but she admits that it's nice having another woman around.

Sara isn't really your _typical _girl's girl.

Sara is a certified badass and international assassin, for Google's sakes, but that doesn't really matter to Felicity. She has never been a girl's girl anyway.

"Felicity?"

Felicity squeaks in surprise and the hand holding her cell immediately comes to rest over her startled heart as she stares at Oliver. "What the – Oliv… I am buying you a _bell_." The words tumble from her lips as her scowl deepens when she notes he is fighting a smile. "Seriously. I don't mean to, you know, rain on your parade or anything – I just, my ticker can only handle so much. Heart failure is in my future and it is your fault, Oliver Queen. I know you're all stealth all the time and you love to skulk about, just… just leave the skulking about for the criminals and the scrum you arrow" – she holds awkwardly holds her hands up as if she is holding his bow, her heels still dangling from her left hand – "when you're out arrowing."

"_Arrowing_." He repeats, an exasperated chuckle escaping his lips.

Her chin juts out defiantly, her hands falling to her sides before she crosses them over her chest. "Well, what would _you _call it?"

Oliver gives into the chuckle that wants to escape and immediately he feels the weight on his shoulders lighten when she walks over to stand beside him, mirroring his position, leaning back against the wall with a sigh as she drops her heels to the floor.

Unlike the early days of their partnership, when the silence engulfs them the blonde at his side doesn't bother to fill it.

And, unlike the bouts of silence from the past couple of weeks, this one isn't uncomfortable.

Felicity is the one to break it, her head rolling against the wall as she turns her head to look at him. "You have your broody thinking face on," she muses lightly as her gaze sweeps over him, "wanna tell me why you're out here all by your lonesome?"

"I'm _not _alone, Felicity." Oliver goes for teasing but he doesn't quite accomplish it as her name rolls off his tongue, a depth and a meaning behind each syllable. He watches her eyes fall shut and he knows she hears everything that he can't put into words. He doesn't have to tell her. Felicity always just knows.

It amazes him how far their relationship has come – strengthened by the hours they spend together during the day, being each other's support as they fill roles they never expected to fill, and the nights when she is the voice in his ear – and the _dangerous _thoughts that have been creeping around the edges of his heart seem louder than ever.

He knows what would happen if he let it.

He knows what he would _feel _if he let himself.

"Same as you. I just…" His arms cross of his chest, his arm brushing against her shoulder before his head falls back to rest against the wall as he stares up at the ceiling. "I needed a break. Sometimes I get tired of being that guy. Oliver Queen: eccentric billionaire and playboy CEO."

Felicity eyebrows knit together and she opens and closes her mouth several times before she moves to stand in front of him, heaving a sigh of exasperation. "Oliver…" Her voice is stern and wills him to look at her and he's thrown by how small she seems without her heels. "You're _not_ that guy. Just like _I'm _not an assistant. Well, I am, thanks to you but" – her hand reaches out to grasp his forearm – "we all have to have secret identities now. Remember?"

Oliver nods and his eyes fall from hers, focusing on the grasp she has on his arm.

Bright eyes widen in surprise when she follows his gaze. "_Oh! _Sorry." Felicity mumbles before she slowly releases her tight grip and clasps her hands together to stop herself from fidgeting. "I just…"

Oliver slowly drags his eyes back up to hers, confusion swimming in their blue depths. "Felicity…"

Her eyes slam shut when she hears him say her name in that tender voice – her name sounds like a caress when he says it and how fair is that? – and she forces herself to swallow past the lump in her throat as she busies herself with putting her heels back on.

When she moves back to stand in front of him, her heels clack against the floor and then she busies herself with straightening the bowtie he managed to mangle when he struggled to loosen it. A lump forms in her throat because it feels intimate and domestic in a way that they just… _aren't_.

Felicity feels his gaze on her and she softly murmurs, "We should probably head back." Her shoulders tense and she knows that he noticed but she doesn't offer an explanation when she sees his eyebrows knit together. She knows there is no way she can explain that she's tired of playing the avoidance game with Moira, anyway.

_Miss Smoak_, Moira's voice is ice cold. _Just because you have no family, it does not mean you can steal mine._

Her teeth catch her bottom lip and draw his attention to her mouth. "I know you probably, uh – you probably don't want to do that…" Felicity tilts her head to the side in consideration. "Actually it's probably pretty high on your to-don't list but people will probably notice you're missing. Well, the probably _already _noticed – not that… that matters…"

She slides her hands down his lapels, flattening them and moving to take a step back, but his hand catches hers and her eyes fly up to meet his automatically. Concern and confusion are written in them but there is also relief in both his gaze and the small smile engraving his face.

Oliver tilts his head to the side and his smile widens when she mimics the action. "There she is…" he breathes in relief. "You've been unusually quiet." Oliver explains before he gently pries her fists open, lacing their fingers together before gently ushering her in the direction of the ballroom.

Her eyes stare at their intertwined hands as she allows him to lead her through the maze of identical corridors, and her breath hitches in her throat when he absently begins rubbing his thumb along hers.

_She _is usually the one to initiate contact.

And Felicity knows she has been touching him more since she told him the truth about Moira's lies – allowing his touch to anchor her and remind her that his mother had been wrong and she hasn't lost him – but she can't help but enjoy the warmth of his grip.

_Hey. You're not going to lose me._

Felicity's tongue darts out to lick her lips before she finally finds her voice. "You mean you prefer the noisy chatterbox? Her voice sounds breathy but she fails to notice as she continues to stare at their laced fingers because Oliver doesn't seem to realize he is running his thumb over her knuckles and thumb.

But she doesn't mention it because she doesn't want him to stop.

It anchors her. Gives her something to focus on.

An endless sea of emotions stare back at her when Oliver glances down at her. "No, no." He chuckles but she knows his words are a lie because Oliver Queen has _never _told her a successful lie. "I've just become accustomed to having a certain amount of Felicity Smoak babbling in my day."

Her heart hammers in her chest as they enter the ballroom but Oliver doesn't let go. Felicity feels him tighten his hold on her hand and his free hand moves to hover over her lower back, and she doesn't need words to get the message.

But he needn't worry because she has no intention of leaving his side.

"Just… _things_ going on" – she answers as she gestures to her head – "going on in here." Felicity waits a beat and then exhales in relief when he doesn't comment on her words, an echo of the ones she used when she was torturing herself with what she knew about Thea.

But he _does _lead her towards the center of the room where several other couples are dancing.

Not that they are a couple. They are a couple in the sense that they are two people and two of anything is a couple. They are _not _a couple-couple who hold hands. Even though he is holding her hand now… _3… 2… 1…_

They are a platonic couple of friends who platonically hold hands.

Felicity's eyes roll in exasperation as she process her own thoughts.

Oliver leans down and his breath ghosts over the shell of her ear. "Time for a dance?" His question mirrors the question he asked all those months ago at another party they'd attended for Moira Queen.

Her eyes widen because this will only serve to fuel the rumours for _months_ and she grumbles under her breath as their intertwined hands come to rest against his chest before they gently sway across the dance floor. "Sometimes I hate you, Oliver Queen." Felicity mutters as her other hand rests on his shoulder.

Mirth dances in his eyes and he looks years younger and she sees the carefree man he used to be. "No you don't," he refutes as he clucks his tongue.

Felicity snorts under her breath because he's right, he's _so _right, and her hand slides from his shoulder to rest over his lapel and she taps her fingers in time with the steady beat she feels thrumming beneath her palm.

"You want to tell me what's going on in that head of yours?" Oliver whispers against her temples as he leans closer and he is unable to keep the concern out of his voice. Quiet Felicity is nerve-wracking.

And Oliver _knows _something is going on with her. He has been in tune with her for months now – when or how it happened, he doesn't know – but he just knows that something has been bothering her for days.

"Felicity," he murmurs, "I know I'm not the most perceptive man in the world but I know _something _is bothering you."

Felicity leans forward until her head rests against his jaw simply because she can and because she can't help herself. "You sound like Digg," she grumbles. "On the way here he kept giving me that _look _he gets sometimes and, honestly, one more question and it'd be going on the books as the Smoak Inquisition… not that we keep books because, uh – probably not a good idea to document given the shady nature of some of our nighttime activities." She pauses. "You know what I mean."

His expression softens but he refuses to let it go that easily. "Felicity…"

"I've told you, it's just things." Felicity struggles to explain without really explaining anything and she heaves a sigh of irritation when he merely quirks an eyebrow at her. "Things are just… things are thingy."

His lips curl upwards a little at her wording but she can't bring herself to return it when something akin to dread washes over her. Felicity feels the tension seep into her bones when she feels someone's gaze burning into the back of her head.

Her heart stutters to a stop when she locks eyes with their voyeur.

_Moira._

Oliver takes a step back and his finds his way to her shoulder, rubbing comforting circles on her collarbone. "Hey…" his eyebrows knit together and it's obvious that he noticed her tension. "Felicity, I'm not trying to push you to talk. I'm _not _pushing you." He promises because _she _has never forced _him _to talk. "Just… if you need –"

"If I ever need to tell someone about my day, I can tell you." Felicity nods.

Oliver tilts his head to the side, catching her gaze. "_Always_."

Felicity offers him a small smile in return and tries to hold onto his words, to remember what he has shown her time and time again but her senses are flooded by Moira.

Her skin prickles and she can still feel the gaze, so cold and hateful, on her skin. Her heart pounds in her chest and drowns out the world around her.

Moira's words, words that cut into her very heart and feed every insecurity she has ever had, echo in her ears.

_We both know how long my son tends to keep his… friends._

**. . .**

Her bright lips fold together as she waits for the man to retrieve her coat – she promised the paranoid two-thirds of her trio that she would get her coat and come right back so they could drive her home – but an hour has passed since her dance with Oliver and in that time she has been dragged from boring conversation to boring conversation and all she wants is to go home and lounge in front of her television watching crappy tv until she fall asleep on her _very _comfy couch.

Exhaustion washes over her and she can barely force herself to stand, her arms crossed over her chest and all of her weight resting on one leg. Her skin bristles when the doors leading out from the lobby are opened as several guests slowly trickle out but the cool air feels _heavenly _on her overheated skin and she sighs in relief.

Her head lolls to the side as she absently clicks away on her phone and brings up the signal from Sara's tracker before she can stop herself or before she even realizes what she is doing – and, wow, she should really tell all her vigilante friends that every piece of tech she's ever given them has a tracker because she is a control freak that always needs to be able to know where they are – and concern washes over her when she sees the assassin is at the Clocktower.

Catching her bottom lip with her teeth she debates for 0.2 second whether or not she should do something before she gives in and starts typing another text. Felicity knows what she is doing and she knows she is blowing up Sara's phone like a crazy ex-girlfriend but she just really hopes the dinner went well.

**Felicity: HOW DID THINGS GO? – 11:32 **

"Miss Smoak" – Felicity's posture immediately straightens when she hears the familiar voice and she tries not to cringe because you never _ever _show your enemy your weakness – "just who I was looking for."

Her heart pounds in her chest and the grip she has on her phone tightens, but she forces a polite smile on her face as she turns to face Moira. "Well you found me," Felicity shrugs as she taps her wrists together and sweet merciful zeus she is so not ready for a verbal rematch.

"Indeed I did." Moira smiles as she sweeps her gaze over her son's assistant, her lips twitching into a smirk when she notices that the poor girl is fidgeting. Honestly it baffles her why her son has chosen to thoroughly integrate this girl into his life when it _so _clear that she does not belong in their world. Even Walter seems to have a soft spot for Felicity Smoak.

Felicity feels her phone vibrate in her hand but she keeps her gaze on the woman in front of her and she silently hopes the one texting her isn't Oliver. He'll come looking for her if she doesn't respond and this is the _last _thing she wants him to see. "Was…" her throat tightens and she feels like the world is closing in around her as she clears her throat and forces the words out. "Was there something you wanted, Mrs. Queen?"

"No need to stand on ceremony, Felicity. _Please _call me Moira. After all…" Moira trails off with a smirk and a steely look in her eyes, her hand reaching out to rest on top of Felicity's. "You are such close… _friends_ with Oliver."

Felicity clenches her jaw.

_We both know how long my son tends to keep his… friends._

Bright green eyes sparkle with an evil glint and her hand falls back to her side, her stance cold and effortlessly graceful at the same time. "I just wanted to have a quick word with you before you left. How was your evening?" Moira asks and her voice is sweet like honey. "I know you must have felt terribly out of a place but I trust Oliver made the night somewhat bearable for you."

"It was lovely. Thank you for having me." Felicity answers as she juts out her chin defiantly and dear god dear lord no one can ever say the tech genius doesn't have balls. Her lips blossom into a small smile as she focuses on the memory of dancing with Oliver, his warm hand engulfing hers as they gently sway. "I had a wonderful time."

"I bet you did."

Her mouth opens and closes but words fail her because she truly does _not _understand how someone so cold and calculating had a hand in raising two children with such good hearts. Shaking her head tiredly, Felicity feels her exhaustion return and she feels nothing as she stares at Moira. No anger. No hate. Felicity is just _tired_.

Moira reads her exhaustion as defeat and her voice adopts the tone that is fake and sweet like honey once again. "You should head home or… well, wherever it is you go when you are not trailing after Oliver." Her eyes narrow as she moves in for the kill. "You don't belong" – her hand waves around absently as she gestures around the room – "in this world."

Felicity feels her stomach churn because she is right. Swathed in an emerald green gown with her hair styled to perfection she may look the part but this – the galas and the masks and the lies and the mind games – is not who she is and it's not someone she wants to be. She _doesn't _belong in this world.

"You're right, I don't." Felicity relents. "But I belong in Oliver's."

Moira levels a glare at her. "No. You don't." Her voice is firm, unwavering, and her heels click against the marble floors as she closes the space between them. "You just want to believe you do. You'll realize that one day and it seems to me that the one that will be hurt is Oliver. He's attached to you, Miss Smoak, and you should cut ties now because he has suffered enough. Stay _away _from _my _family."

_Miss Smoak_, Moira's voice is ice cold. _Just because you have no family, it does not mean you can steal mine_

Nails covered in gold polish dig into her palms, leaving crescent-shaped cuts. "No."

"If you won't stay away from my son for his sake, you should do it for your own." Moira insists and her voice drops an octave lower. "Don't test me, Miss Smoak. You have no idea what I am capable of."

Felicity wants to laugh because she has been working with the vigilante for over a year and she knows _exactly _what the woman is capable of. "The fact that this is the second time in two weeks that you've threatened me" – Moira's eyes widen in surprise – "just makes me more determined to _stay_."

Felicity has stood toe-to-toe with Oliver.

She is _not _intimidated by Moira Queen.

Moira shrugs. "Since when is friendly conversation a threat?"

"Since it isn't _friendly_." Felicity crosses her arms over her chest and wonders briefly if she has lost her mind. "I can read between the lines, Mrs. Queen."

"Well," Moira brushes an imaginary wrinkle from her gown as she takes a step back, "I can see that there is just no changing your mind."

"No_pe_."

"Very well." Moira's eyebrow arches. "Maybe you won't be so reluctant to see reason when Oliver is no longer in your corner –"

Felicity's heart pounds in her chest, her insecurities bubbling to the surface, and she struggles to hold onto the truth that she knows. She knows that Moira doesn't understand their relationship or what they mean to each other. Oliver promised she wouldn't lose him and she believes him, she _does_.

Moira continues: "Because here are some words of wisdom – all men are hardwired to betray, Miss Smoak." Her eyes are trained on her son's assistant even as she walks back towards the ballroom, her heels clacking against the marble floor as she delivers her final blow. "It's just a matter of _when_."

Felicity's heart constricts and her eyes burn with unshed tears but she _refuses_ to let them fall. She is numb to the world around her and she feels like she is on the edge of a complete breakdown when her phone vibrates again to remind her that she has an unread text. Her hand trembles as she slides her thumb across the screen and reads the text message. It's from Sara.

**Sara: LAUREL STORMED OUT OVER AN HOUR AGO – 11:33**

Felicity sends a quick text to Digg, telling him that she is gone and _so _sorry for making him wait for her, and her heels click-clack against the floor as a wonderful horrible idea crosses her mind. Even as she pushes the door open and walks out into the cold night air – her mind doesn't even think about retrieving her coat from inside – her thumb presses 4 on her speed dial. Sara picks up on the third ring.

"_Hey_." Sara's voice is thick with tears.

_God, I just can't stop crying._ Sara lamented a week ago as she wiped away her tears, _Didn't know I could do that anymore._

Felicity hails a cab as her teeth catches her bottom lip. "Hey." Her voice is soft as she slides into the cab and pauses to give the driver her address before she refocuses on Sara. "I have some perfectly good tequila at home…" she trails off with uncertainty when the assassin says nothing but then she just _goes for it_. "You wanna get drunk off cheap margaritas?"

Sara is silent, a beat, and then she snorts. "_You're still cute_," she chuckles and if her laugh is slightly hysterical neither of them comment on it, "_I'll meet you at your place._"

**TBC.**


End file.
